ue-grey waters, and always with Michigan's
exhilarating breezes in their faces, would bring them to the cool depths
of Birchwood's shades and silences, where for a time the hustle and
heat and roar of the big city would be as completely forgotten as if a
thousand miles away. It was early on a breathless afternoon late in July
when from pavement and wall the quivering air smote the face as if blown
from an opened furnace that Rowena drove her car down La Salle Street
and pulled up at the Rookery Building resolved to carry off with her as
a special treat "her men" for an evening at Birchwood.

"Come along, Larry, it is too hot to live in town today," she said as
she passed through the outer office where the young man had his desk. "I
am just going in to get father, so don't keep me waiting."

"Miss Wakeham, why will you add to the burdens of the day by breezing
thus in upon us and making us discontented with our lot. I cannot
possibly accept your invitation this afternoon."

"What? Not to-day, with the thermometer at ninety-four? Nonsense!" said
the young lady brusquely. "You look fit to drop."

"It is quite useless," said Larry with a sigh. "You see we have a man in
all the way from Colorado to get plans of a mine which is in process
of reconstruction. These plans will take hours to finish. The work is
pressing, in short must be done to-day."

"Now, look here, young man. All work in this office is pressing but none
so pressing that it cannot pause at my command."

"But this man is due to leave to-morrow."

"Oh, I decline to talk about it; it is much too hot. Just close up your
desk," said the young lady, as she swept on to her father's office.

In a short time she returned, bearing that gentleman in triumph with
her. "Not ready?" she said. "Really you are most exasperating, Larry."

"You may as well throw up your hands, Larry. You'd better knock off for
the day," said Mr. Wakeham. "It is really too hot to do anything else
than surrender."

"You see, it is like this, sir," said Larry. "It is that Colorado mine
reconstruction business. Their manager, Dimock, is here. He must leave,
he says, tomorrow morning. Mr. Scread thinks he should get these off as
soon as possible. So it is necessary that I stick to it till we get it
done."

"How long will it take?" said Mr. Wakeham.

"I expect to finish to-night some time. I have already had a couple of
hours with Dimock to-day. He has left me the data."

"Well, I am v